The Final Moments
by navix
Summary: There is nothing that they will stop at, I know, nothing that will bar them from trying to kill me. No, not kill me; for I am already dead..."


Dracula and all the rest belong to that brilliant man, Mr. Bram Stoker himself.  
  
AN - I've never seen any of the movies yet, I've read the book (there wasn't a category for Dracula under the books section. hmm.. Odd.). This is a monologue I will have to perform (accent and all ) next week. Reviewing would be the most helpful thing you could do. And when I say that, I mean that you will review or I will come and burn you in your sleep.  
  
Or not. But I wouldn't stake my life on it. Muah.  
  
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The Final Moments  
  
They are coming. I can feel it. There is nothing that they will stop at, I know, nothing that will bar them from trying to kill me. No, not kill me; for I am already dead. destroy me, yes, that is it. That is all that they need to do, and thus yet they have failed, in all of their pathetic attempts to conquer me! And see how they scamper about now, trying again in vain to match my wits, match my calculated planning. I again have the upper hand; I again have the advantage of the unwilling spy among their fold. Ha! All they do, all of their predicting and analyzing of their records about me is worthless for I know it all through my spy, baptized in my blood! It is all useless! I am an unstoppable entity, why do they not see this and cringe in fear?  
  
Perhaps it is that I have forgotten what it was like to be courageous, to stand up against impossibility and stare fear and certain death in the eye, for when one has overcome the obstacle of death, courage is not something of concern. Maybe it is that I have underestimated them. No, I have thought it out too thoroughly for them to find a niche, a chink in my strategy, a strategy that had served me well in my mortal life, and that serves me well now. Ah, I am ever grateful for its creation, allowing me to recoup when the oppressor became too overwhelming. Ah, I remember the days of old when we not only defended our noble land, this land now called Transylvania against the brash and barbaric Turks, no, we not only were able to drive them back, we conquered them upon their own land!  
  
And yet, these shadows of mine still entertain the childish fancy that they can hunt me, the great Count Dracula, and destroy me! Yes, they have won the battle to win back their precious London from me, but they have not yet won the war. I shall return, I vow it. I have only to reach the fortress of my own refuge, my own castle, and then shall I regroup. I shall come back, more forceful and fearsome than before. And then, then shall I taste the sweet sweet blood of the unsuspecting innocent.  
  
The world shall run rampant with my kind. I will be their Master, and they shall be my Minions, my Children of Darkness. Oh, the day will come when all will bow to me, and I shall command them. In my life we conquered Turkey-land, us of the Dracula line, and in my Living Death, shall I conquer the world.  
  
They will not stop me, even though now I am trapped in this box of my holy soil. Curse the afflictions of the Un-Dead, curse the sun forever for its stare upon me which causes annihilation to me and my kind. If ever my pursuers were to behold me without fear, this would be their golden time of opportunity. Lying here, in the dark, cool, quiet of my burial earth, I am harmless, rendered to something like a mere corpse. Were I not some unholy abomination, as some think me, I would pray that God would forbid that my trackers not discover my whereabouts. I know I am close to my destination. I have only a few hours until I reach my refuge. By nightfall, surely, I shall wake within the walls of Castle Dracula.  
  
Hark! I hear something awry from deep within my sleep. Something is not right, these voices I hear are familiar, but not of those who carry me. It is the ones who track me ceaselessly! They have found me! The lid of my box is ripped from its nails, I can see, even though I am motionless. There is the faint glint of the knife in the winter sun as it swoops down to sever my head from my body. the unthinkable is happening! Damn you, damn you all to the pits of hell! 


End file.
